She pushes against my chest, but I don’t allow her to push me away. Flexing my muscles, I keep her close against me. I watch as water fills her eyes and I realize that she must be understanding her fate. That she indeed must be a witch.
“I’m not, Colt. You have to believe me,” she begs. I want to do just that, truly I do, but I don’t.
“What do you use your witchcraft for?” I ask, hoping that she will say it is only for good and sunshine, for bright and happy things. I may be able to keep her alive if this is the case, if she only uses it to help people.
“I’m not a witch,” she hisses. “I’m not,” she denies, grinding out her words as wet tears begin to fall down her cheeks.
Dipping my chin, I touch my mouth to hers, unable to keep from taking a taste of her, at least once. She’s sweet, sweeter than anything else I’ve tasted in my entire life.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve only been with bordello women, but this is better than any kiss I’ve had in years and I haven’t even tasted the inside of her sweet mouth, yet.
Lifting my head, I look into her eyes. “What is your explanation, Birdie?” I ask. “You have never heard of my country and I’ve never heard of yours. You come here dressed as a man, in strange fabric that I’ve never seen or felt before. You’re found in the middle of the desert, my desert, and you speak strangely. You act strangely, as well, and you are just plain strange.”
She gasps, looking as if I’ve offended her. I can’t help but laugh at her offense. I still don’t release her, wanting to stay close to her, enjoying the way her soft body feels in my arms. I want nothing more than to slide my hand up her back and test the softness of her hair, too.
“I don’t know how I got here, but I’m no witch. I don’t even think they have witches in my country, at least not that I know of anyway. Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. I mean, I’ve heard rumors, but I try not to really read into those, not unless I’ve seen whatever the rumor is with my own eyes. Plus, it’s not like everyone is going to be running around screaming about the fact that they’re a witch. Even where I come from, I think it would really be frowned upon.”
She snaps her lips closed and I can’t help but laugh at her rambling. This is something that she seems to do often, perhaps only when she’s scared or nervous, but I enjoy it greatly. I don’t know why, but I think that it is adorable, especially when her blue eyes sparkle as she comes up with all of her swift words as they run together in her tangents.
“If you’re not a witch, tell me how you ended up in Devilrise, a place that you claim you’ve never heard of before.”
She hums, shaking her head, then presses her lips together for a moment, before she starts to speak. “I don’t know how I ended up here. I’m still banking on the fact that this is a really vivid dream and I’ll be waking up in my own car or bed at any given moment.”
I shake my head. “This is no dream, darlin’. But there is something unearthly about you, I’m just trying to figure it out.”
“Until then?” she asks on a whisper.
“I’m not sure. Until then, I need to keep you close, make sure you don’t cast any spells on me, my men, or my country.”
BIRDIE
Colton leaves me with a brush of his lips and the tray of food that he forces Ernest to carry back into the bedroom across the hall. Martha is still at her post, but Colt calls her into the hallway. I try not to eavesdrop, well that’s a lie, I do eavesdrop. It’s what I do, it’s what I’ve always done and it’s always, always, gotten me into trouble.
You’ll keep an eye on her, Martha, when I’m not around. Right now, I need you to find suitable clothing for her.
But, sir, we don’t know who she is. She could be dangerous.
Martha hisses, sounding seriously peeved that she has to go shopping for me and hang out with me. I’m kind of fun, and I’m always up for an adventure, so I’m not sure why she’d be so miffed about hanging out.
Do as I’ve asked. Unless I need to order you?
No, sir.
Her words come out on a growl and I’m sure Colt knows just as well as I do that, she doesn’t really mean them. I mean, maybe it would be better if he did order her, at least she could pretend it was just her duty and she wasn’t doing it to be nice or whatever.
She will dine with me later this evening. I have some letters to deal with and a meeting with the General in thirty minutes. We have some business to discuss. Then we will have our supper.
I hear footsteps walk away. Backing away from the door, I stand at the window, quickly turning around so that I can look at the dusty ground below.
There are some more muffled murmurs and I assume that it’s the Stick-Up-His-Ass-Dude and Martha gossiping about me or trying to figure out what the hell they’re going to do to me. I hear the door open, but I don’t look behind me.
Instead, I stare out at the horizon. It’s pretty outside. The sun is dipping low, an indication that dinner will probably be soon. The land around me looks much like Arizona except instead of cactus, I see pretty gold-tipped leaved trees with… red trunks.
My brows furrow and I shake my head, trying to get my vision in check. Maybe it’s just a reflection from the setting sun, it must be. A throat clears behind me, so
